A/N: Sorry for the delay!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

Chapter Five

Peeta still remembered the day he met Finnick like it had just happened yesterday.

It wasn't that he had had a fight with Cato per say but they weren't exactly on happy terms at the time. Which was the only reason he had let it get as far as it did with Finnick. Once Cato and himself were back together, he kept telling himself that he would break it off with Finnick. Each time he saw him, he'd chicken out and any time he did get the courage to bring the subject up, Finnick would immediately sense it and seduce him into forgetting about it.

It was like Finnick was psychic. All Peeta had to do was open his mouth and say, "We need to-" and he wouldn't let him finish. He'd either immediately kiss him so he couldn't finish the sentence or would slowly start sucking on his neck and kissing up under his jaw until he lost his train of thought. The man was a master at seduction.

To say that Finnick and Cato didn't get along was an understatement. They really did not like each other. Peeta hated that he was the only reason that they detested each other, that he was what stood between them being friends and getting along. The hate was greatest when they first met each other. Peeta wasn't even sure how they ended up coming to the sharing compromise. The first day was mostly fighting and screaming, ending in the first and hottest threesome Peeta experienced up to that point.

Because of the obvious hate they held towards each other and the ever present competiton between them, if either of them got a chance to be alone with him then they would take it. And they would make the most of every second.

On the day Cato left to go on the business trip, at first Finnick did nothing, which Peeta barely noticed. He never thought of sex as often as Cato or Finnick did, nor did he see it as much as a nessecity as they did. That night they had gotten take out food and watched the sequel to the movie that had been on the t.v a couple of days ago. It was a rental copy that Finnick had gotten especially for the night.

"So, let me get this straight," Peeta said through a mouthful of special fried rice, "these . . . berries have sparked a rebellion then?"

"It's not the berries," Finnick answered. "It's the fact that this girl was able to bend the rules of the Games and get away with it that sparked the rebellion. The berries were no more than a vessel. And since she's from the lowly district, the others are thinking, 'If this girl can get defy the Capitol and walk away unscathed, what's to stop us from doing the same?' You get it?"

Peeta chewed thoughtfully before nodding. "Okay," he said slowly. "Then why doesn't Sunderland just kill her for it or something?"

Finnick laughed. "Kill her? Jennifer? No, he can't kill her because it wouldn't go down well in the Districts. She'd just become a martyr. It will very likely just make the rebellion grow rather than dissipate." He broke a piece of prawn cracker off and popped it into his mouth with a grin. "Do you see what I mean?"

"Sort of," Peeta answered. "I suppose." He watched the four characters running through the forest in the supposedly 'special' arena from a poisonous fog. "That Sam guy is pretty attractive. Seems like the perfect match for you Finnick."

"You mean like you thought Alexander was the perfect match for Cato?" Finnick asked.

Peeta nodded. "Basically, yeah. It's like this movie is the new eHarmony for you two. You never know, maybe someday you guys will meet and fall in love."

"Okay, you goofball," Finnick laughed. "Whatever you say. Here, take your fortune cookie." He tossed Peeta one of the cookie which he broke open to reveal a strip of paper. "What does it say?" he asked with a smirk.

"Did you make these yourself or something?" Peeta asked, biting into the cookie, which tasted suprisingly like a wafer. "Because I don't think fortune cookie messages are allowed to have swear words."

"That's not a proper swear," Finnick protested.

"If that is not a swear word in your books then I don't even want to know what is," Peeta replied. "So come on, spill it, tell me how you did it."

"I did nothing," Finnick insisted. "That must be your fortune, swear word and all."

"So my fortune is, 'your partner is going to screw you hard tonight'?"

Finnick shrugged. "Written in the stars," he said. "And just to add, if I had of written that, I would have said 'fucked' instead of 'screwed' because I don't shy away from the beautiful language of sex. The fortune cookie people are much more polite in their wording."

Peeta rolled his eyes. One of the biggest differences between Finnick and Cato were their ways of . . . uh . . . approaching their sexual activites. Cato was a gentle and thorough lover while Finnick believed in the more animalistic and carnal way of making love. He knew that this fortune cookie was his way of telling him of what he was planning for that night. Peeta sensed it was only a matter of time since Cato wasn't there with them at the moment.

"So when does this fortune come into play do you think?" he asked.

Finnick shrugged. "I don't know. Your partner is a very complicated person, maybe one hour, maybe the next, maybe in the middle of the night while you're sleeping. He's like a puma, could strike at any moment. You'll have to stay on red alert for the rest of the time Cato's gone, lest he think that I don't look after you."

Peeta laughed and finished off eating the cookie. "You don't have to look after me," he said. "I can look after myself just fine."

"You can't furfill your own needs," Finnick said in a low, sultry voice. "And that's why I'm here." He threw his arm around his shoulders and pulled him over to lie against him. Peeta sighed and let his head fall onto his shoulder. "For not only being your amazing boyfriend but to also be the man to tend to your every whim and need."

"Okay then, well, I'm still hungry so don't make me be on red alert while I finish my dinner?" Peeta asked, reaching out and grabbing the small tin foil package that contained the remainder of his rice. He only had a couple of spoonfuls in him before Finnick wound his arm around his waist and pulled him back against him.

"Allow me," he said, taking the foil package off him and spooning some of it off himself. Peeta snorted and shook his head.

"What's this then? Feeding me like a baby now?" he asked.

"Uh-huh," Finnick answered. "I know how to make it an amazing experience. Here. Close your eyes."

"What?"

"I said close your eyes." When Peeta looked at him as if he was crazy, Finnick sighed and put his hand over his eyes himself. "Can't you just trust me?" he asked.

"I trust you," Peeta said. "I just don't get what my eyes have to do with my food. Jeez, you have to make everything difficult, don't you?" Instead of answering, Finnick held the spoonful of rice to his mouth. Peeta opened his mouth with a reluctant sigh and ate the food with out being able to see properly. It was awkward but, because he couldn't see, it made it easier to focus on the taste. "Wow," he said. "When did you come up with that?"

"Just something I discovered a while back," Finnick answered. "Second one's coming now. Hint: the slower you go, the better it tastes."

Curious, Peeta did what he told him to and ate it slowly like instructed. If closing your eyes could make The Bejing Hut's rubbish food taste good then what would it do for proper, five star meals? He'd have to try it sometime. Finnick seemed to enjoy feeding him because he kept it going until every last piece was gone from the package.

"God, that was hot," Finnick said.

Peeta frowned. "Huh?" he asked.

"Shit, you know what, screw red alert, I need you now." Peeta yelped when Finnick kissed him, taken completely by surprise. Finnick bit his lip, slipping his tongue into his mouth when he gasped, devouring him from the inside out. The hand over his eyes pushed back into his hair, gripping tight and pulling him closer. Peeta moaned and hooked his arm around Finnick's neck, pressing himself against him.

Finnick slid his hand down his back and squeezed his ass, chuckling when Peeta squeaked into his mouth. He dipped his hand down lower and grabbed his thigh to hook it around his waist. When he knelt up on the sofa with him in his arms, their crotches brushed together. Shots of electricity shot up Peeta's nerves and he groaned, gasping for air when Finnick slid his lips down to his neck. "Mm, Finn," he murmured, threading his fingers into his bronze hair and playing with it. "Finn, can I ask what's brought this on?"

"Watching you wrap you lips around that spoon was just too sexy," Finnick explained against his neck, pushing his hands up underneath his t-shirt to run his palms up his torso. "I couldn't handle it. So, sorry about the red alert thing. Still, that can happen later."

"I think I can pardon it," Peeta replied. Finnick sucked on a tender spot on his neck and he whimpered, letting his eyes fall shut. "I really don't mind." While Finnick showered him with kisses, rucking his shirt up further and running his hands all over his body, Peeta suddenly remembered something. "Finn."

"Hmm?"

"Don't you have to be at work in like," he glanced at the clock above the t.v, "fifteen minutes?"

Finnick cursed and turned his head towards the clock. "Shit," he said, "yeah."

Peeta sighed and tried not to look disappointed. Brushing his fingers through Finnick's hair, he said, "It's okay. We can do this later."

There was a small pause before Finnick sat up, looking suddenly elevated. "Nah-uh. I'm not giving up any opportunity to be with you while Cato's gone. This is happening."

Peeta scoffed. "Finn, be realistic. It's a ten minute walk to the spa, you need to go in five minutes. You can't have sex in five minutes. It's unrealistic and not very practical. Come on, it's okay, I'll still be here when you get back. What shift are you taking tonight anyway? How many appointments have you got?"

"Baby, I'll be working through the night," Finnick said. "It's okay though, we'll just have a quickie right now."

"A what now?"

"A quickie." Finnick unclasped his and Peeta's belt buckles, pushing his own down to his ankles and kicking them off. Peeta watched with raised eyebrows, quelling a giggle at his enthusiam. Finnick hooked his arms under his knees and threw him onto his back. Working with the speed and percision of an expert, he tugged his pants and underwear off.

Peeta didn't even have a chance to be shy before Finnick had thrown his legs over his shoulders and entered him roughly. At first it killed, shots of agony climbing up his back and threatening to cripple him. Almost immediately after, the shots of agony were replaced with shots of pleasure and he couldn't hold back his approval. Finnick smirked when he moaned, thrusting into him harder.

"Ah, ah, Finn, Finn, Finn!" He scrabbled at Finnick's back, very likely leaving scratches. His partner latched onto his neck, kissing the tender skin like it was water in a desert. "Ah, god, oh christ." Stars burst behind his eyes, blinding him in a wave of esctasy.

"Fuck baby, how do you always manage to stay so tight?" Finnick grunted through clenched teeth. "Ah, fuck. God, I'm going to cum."

"Me too," Peeta groaned. His hips rose off the sofa and he whined as Finnick thrusted even harder, angling himself to hit his prostate with every thrust. He came first, his cum mostly covering himself instead of Finnick, which he supposed was a good thing since he couldn't very well go into work covered in seamen. His lover soon followed, pulling Peeta up against his chest and holding him close while he spilled out into him. Peeta didn't mind when Cato and Finnick came inside him, it was just the feeling afterwards that he didn't like. Still, he couldn't complain, could he?

"Five minutes," Finnick murmered, his mouth pressed up against his ear. "Unrealistic?"

"Oh shut up," Peeta chuckled, pulling back and kissing his nose. "Now go on, you need to go to work."

"I don't want to go," Finnick moaned. "I rather stay here and get some more of this." He cupped his crotch and added pressure.

Peeta groaned and swatted his shoulder. "Go, work now," he ordered. He sat back and started pulling his underwear back up. "Go on. I'll still be here when you get back." He scooped up Finnick's pants and underwear as well and chucked them at him. "You know Cato won't be any more impressed if you do stay here instead of going to work and bringing home your half of the rent."

At the mention of Cato, Finnick was up and dressed in ten seconds flat. Peeta grinned, knowing that that would have worked. "I'll be home as soon as I can, baby." He leaned down and pressed one last breathtaking kiss against his lips. Peeta closed his eyes, momentarily lost in the euphoria, only to be snapped out of it a second later when Finnick pulled away. "I'll see you later."

"Okay."

When Finnick left, Peeta switched off the t.v and lay down on the sofa, thinking about what Cato was doing right now. He missed him very much, unable to shake the feeling that a part of him was missing. It seemed to be that way if either of them were gone for too long. He had become so dependant on the both of them, wanting them both so desperately it was almost painful sometimes.

~xXx~

Before he had met Cato, Peeta had been a straight man. He had never thought about men in a sexual way nor did he believe that he would ever become gay. It wasn't that he had ruled it out, it was just something he had never thought about. Cato had approached him at a bar, bold as brass, and wouldn't give in when he told him he was straight. He had the sort of 'I'm not leaving without what I want' attitude and the more he insisted to buy him a drink, the more enthralled Peeta became.

After the nineteenth pick up line, Peeta had said, "You do realize that this won't work because I'm straight, right?"

And Cato leaned forward so his mouth hovered over his ear and responded with something that he would never forget. "And so is spaghetti, until it gets hot." Peeta could still remember the shivers that had jittered down his spine at the way his breath brushed past his ear, of how his lips caressed his skin as he spoke, of how his voice dropped an octave to a sultry growl when he said the word 'hot'.

It made Peeta wonder why he was so desperate to get him a drink in particular. There were plenty of other attractive guys in the bar at the time, why was he so persistant to buy him a drink, even though he was insisting that he was straight? But he found the sentence about the spaghetti very funny so he let him buy him one.

Which, of course, lead to another.

And another.

And another.

And another.

When he was intoxicated enough to be slightly tipsy, Cato had asked for one kiss. They had been sitting in a booth, ten beer bottles strewn on the table in front of them. Cato could handle his alcohol better than Peeta and was a lot more cohearant than he had been. In his giggly, drunken state, Peeta had shook his head and put his finger over his lips-or what he thought was his lips anyway-and said, "I have to go home or more spaghetti men might get me."

This being a statement that Cato still held over him.

Being giggly and hyper as he was, Peeta had practically skipped all the way home with Cato's arm hooked in his, babbling about a lot of things that he couldn't remember when he had woken up the next morning. Cato had later told him that he explained every single relationship with a woman he had ever had, while also adamantly insisting that he was still as straight as an arrow. The elevator in Peeta's apartment building had just slid shut with them inside it when Cato had pushed him back into the wall and kissed him.

And the rest, as they say, is history.

They had had a healthy relationship up until they had an argument about how fast and serious the relationship had gotten a couple months later. Peeta had stormed off, saying that he was going to get some milk before he lost his mind. He had stood in an agonizingly long line for half an hour before finally getting a chance to pay. When he had left the shop, he had barely made it to the end of the pavement before someone tapped his shoulder.

"Um, excuse me, you dropped this?"Finnick had said.

"Oh, thanks," Peeta had replied, slightly confused. He could have sworn that he had put that into his pocket. He thought it must have fallen out. As Finnick handed the wallet over, he had asked if he was alright, because he apparently looked upset. Of course he had been upset, he had thought that Cato and him were going to end.

They had lunch together and Finnick made him tell him everything about what had happened, as if they were friends who had knew each other for ages. Finnick had provided comfort, been a shoulder for him to cry on. Peeta had to admit, he had been in a very vulnerable position when he first met Finnick and when he had leaned forward and kissed him, he didn't stop him. When he looked back on it, he supposed he probably seemed like a whore. But if he had, Finnick certainly didn't mind.

After the kiss, he became hooked and that's when he started seeing both of them at once. At first he believed that his relationship with Cato was over but when he came back home that night with warm milk and a pathetic attempt at hiding the fact that his lips were swollen from Finnick's kisses, Cato had made a dinner and apologized at any interval he could fit it in.

It did nothing to make Peeta feel any better about himself. Falling into the arms of another man at the slightest sign of conflict.

He only lasted a month before he finally had to tell them both what was going on. He loved them too much to keep on lying to them. At first he had thought that they were going to leave him and he'd be on his own again but they had both said the exact same thing.

"I want to meet him."

Oh lord how that had terrified him. There were so many possibilites of how that could go wrong. Still, he let them meet none the less. And, again, the rest was history.

~xXx~

Peeta couldn't remember falling asleep on the sofa but next thing he knew, he was lying with his face smushed against the arm of the couch in darkness. He lifted his head drowsily and blinked at the clock, surprised to find that it was nearly 2:00am. Was Finnick home yet? What sort of massage therapist worked until 2:00am? Then again, Finnick was the most popular massage therapist in the country. He could literally manipulate anything into putty in his hands.

Of course, he had never let Finnick give him a massage before, no matter how many times he insisted how much he would love to do it. Wouldn't it just be embarrassing? You're supposed to be naked right? As in no clothes naked. Knowing Finnick, he would just say that there was no need to be shy about it but the thought of lying on his stomach with no clothes on while Finnick rubbed his body-as appealing at it sounded-was just too damn scary.

He went back to sleep again on the couch. He would have went up to bed but he was in a comfortable enough position and felt too drowsy to go anywhere. So he just fell asleep on the sofa. At least Finnick would think that he made an effort to stay awake for him if he found him here on the couch. The only downside of it was that if he did come home to find him sleeping on the sofa, he would very likely decide to stay down in living room as well, not wishing to leave him alone downstairs.

That was another disadvantage of being the supposed 'weak' one of the relationship. The other two, the more stronger and dominant members of the three, would be way more protective than needed. According to both Cato and Finnick, Peeta was too innocent and vulnerable. Apparently they 'knew how some of the people in 12 worked' and he was the 'perfect prey' for those who couldn't take no for an answer. It wasn't that Peeta didn't believe them, he just thought it would be very unlikely that someone would go after him when he'd be walking around with his hands joined with Cato and Finnick's. He'd tried to tell them this but they wouldn't have it. In the end, Peeta decided that it would just be best to let them think what they liked. It wasn't doing them any harm anyway.

He wasn't sure how long he slept for but he was awoken again by Finnick. "Hey, Peeta," he whispered, nudging him gently. "Peeta, wake up."

"Ngh, no," Peeta moaned, sluggishly batting his hand away from him. "Too tired."

Finnick brushed his hair from his face. "Hey, come on now, if you're going to sleep then we're going up to our room."

Peeta screwed his eyebrows up and groaned. "What time is it?"

"Three o'clock," Finnick said in a hushed voice. "It was a busy shift, I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Peeta muttered. "The whole country wants to feel your hands, I get it. Can I go back to sleep now?"

Finnick sighed and scooped him up into his arms, holding him like a bride and carrying him up the stairs. Peeta rest his head against his chest and slipped in and out of consciousness. "Oh, babe, I'm sorry I was gone so long. You're exhausted now."

"S'okay," Peeta mumbled, half in the hazy world of dreamland. He felt as limp as a rag doll, dangling in Finnick's arms like a limp piece of wool. When he put him down on the bed, he turned over and lazily hugged the pillow, burying his face into it and sighing. The bed was much more comfy than the couch, the soft cotton sheets warm and cosy. Finnick silently got ready for bed himself, getting out of his work clothes and into his pyjamas. When he got in beside him, he gently wrapped his arms around Peeta's waist and pulled him up against him. Peeta smiled, knowing that he had been dying to have a go at being the big spoon for months now.

"I can see why Cato likes this so much," Finnick murmured. He rested his head in the crook of his neck and gently rubbed his stomach with his fingertips. "I can feel every inch of you pressed against me."

"Hmm, cool," Peeta muttered sleepily, nuzzling his face further into the pillow. He hadn't even beel listening to Finnick at the time, he was too sleepy to hear him, and had just came up with a standard reponse. After that, he fell asleep for the third and final time that night.

~xXx~

Peeta awoke to the feeling of hands on his back. A curl of desire washed through to his core as the hands pushed up to his shoulders and rubbed. A tiny groan bubbled up in the back of his throat but he swallowed it, still not completely sure what was happening. "Finn?" he muttered tiredly.

"Yeah?" Finnick responded instantly.

"What're you doing?"

"The muscles in your back were tightly coiled so I thought I'd just loosen them before you woke up," Finnick explained. He rubbed harder and Peeta's eyes threatened to roll up behind his head. "It's pretty simple really, I have cilents who come in strung up like a bow, tense as anything. Whether it's from work, stress or just day to day life, it's all treated the same way."

"I thought I told you that I didn't want to be a cilent?" Peeta mumbled lazily into the pillow.

"If you were a cilent, you'd have this done at the spa, have no clothes on and be in a candlelit room with gentle music playing to keep you relaxed," Finnick replied. "Although that offer is still on the table if you want to take it, I don't mind. I mean, back at the spa I have oils and lotions and all of that stuff, it would be much better than this."

Much better than this?! Peeta wasn't sure if he could handle much better than this. This was orgasmic enough as it was. "I'm still not comfortable with the idea of being naked on a table," he answered honestly. "Especially in a public place."

"There would be a towel covering your intimate area," Finnick replied, reverting to the desperate form of himself who wanted nothing more than for Peeta to become one of his cilents. "Not even I'm allowed to look under the towel-unless asked or given expressed permission of course, and even then it's only for the massage-company policy."

"People ask you to massage their . . ."

"Asses? Yeah. It happens."

Peeta had only ever been to the spa once to visit Finnick. It turned out that more than half of his cilents were women and only a small number of them were men. It was obvious that the females were only there for the eye candy-which he could understand, he supposed. He'd been allowed to sit in on one woman in particular's appointment and she had came in, all charms and smiles, flirting with Finnick like she didn't have a wedding band on her finger.

Peeta had tried not to be much of a bother so he sat ontop of a small chest of drawers and completed some paperwork for his mother, who didn't have the faintest idea of what the questions meant. Eventually the woman asked Finnick who the blond boy was, shocking them both by asking if he was his son. Okay, so he was a little bit younger than Finnick, but not by that much! They only had a couple of years between them! When Finnick had explained to the woman that Peeta was not his son but his boyfriend, her expression soured and she didn't speak for the rest of the session. Peeta liked it better that way, so that the tart wasn't flirting with Finn anymore.

Still, after that, he decided it was best if he kept his life seperate from the women at Finnick's job's lives.

"I actually had a woman yesterday who wanted that," Finnick explained. "She's part of the group of people who have miscalculated which boat that I am on. Still, I've already put a plan into action to let them know."

Peeta moaned as he rubbed down his back, managing to get every single tense muscle without even seeming too try. "And what plan is that?" he asked.

"I've put a photo of you up at my desk. Whenever there's cilents waiting they'd see it and ask who you are. Then I'd say that you're my boyfriend. Their reactions to it are quite hilarious, I must say. Sometimes I wonder if I should tell them that I'm part of a three way relationship with the sexy boy in the photograph and another guy who we both some day dream of trying out DP on."

"D . . . P?" Peeta asked.

"We shall cross that road another day," Finnick said flippantly. "Cato would kill me if he found out I'd told you before he got back."

"Oh . . . okay . . ."

Finnick leaned forward and nestled his head in the crook of his neck. "You know this would be so much easier if I could take your shirt off," he mumbled, kissing the side of his neck.

"No," Peeta said immediately. "I'm not . . . I can't just lie here without a shirt on it's ridiculous-" He stopped when Finnick nibbled on the shell of his ear, sighing in content and losing his train of thought. His partner took the opportunity to slip his hands under his t-shirt and push it up to expose his back. He sat back up and resumed his work. Peeta had to admit, it did feel so much better now that his shirt was up.

"I wish you'd let me do this properly," Finnick whined. "I could make you feel so good." He slipped his hand underneath the quilt and pinched his backside cheekily. Peeta squeaked, burying his face into the pillow to hide his flamming cheeks. "Oh babe, I think your ass needs some attention too."

"I don't think it-oh goddd," Peeta moaned. He tried not to squirm as Finnick did what he was doing to his back only on his . . . uh . . . backside. "Finnnnnick, stop please, before I get too . . ."

"Worked up?" Finnick asked in a sultry voice. Peeta shivered. "I know how to sort that out. Turn over." Peeta did as he was told, turning over onto his back so he could look at his boyfriend properly. Straddling his hips, Finnick pressed his lips against Peeta's, moving his crotch up against the younger blond's. Peeta groaned, moving his hips as well and rubbing himself up against him.

"I hope you don't do this with all your other cilents," he moaned, sliding his fingers into Finnick's hair as he kissed his neck. "Because I don't trust those women, they might have diseases or something." Finnick chuckled, sliding his hands down his sides and pulling his underwear down his legs.

"Don't worry, I save the good stuff for you," he said.

"Well that's nice to hear," Peeta smiled, closing his eyes. A little purr escaped from his parted lips when Finnick pushed into him. "What do you do when I'm not here?" he moaned, winding his arms about his boyfriend's neck. Finnick chuckled, peppering kisses over his face and chest.

"You're always here," he said.

"Uh, no," Peeta replied. "I leave for one weekend once a month to see my parents. I'm pretty sure you don't have sex with Cato."

"I just masturbate," Finnick grunted through gritted teeth.

"But with what? I don't know about you but I find it very difficult to conjure up ideas in my head just to do . . . that," Peeta said. "Oh, oh, ooohhh." Finnick pinched his nipple, dragging his tongue up the side of his face.

"You mean when you're trying to imagine Cato and I doing it," he asked in a seductive tone. Peeta groaned at the very thought, welding his eyes shut and throwing his head back. Finnick kissed his adam's apple with a smirk. "Because I'm sure that's difficult since we hate each other so much and you're the one caught in the middle."

"Hey," Peeta said. "Don't change the subject, answer the question." He yelped when Finnick suddenly rolled over so that Peeta sat on top, his knees pressed against his thighs as he tried to keep his balance. Taking a deep breath, Peeta recalled what he could of the couple of horse riding lessons he tried as a kid. He lifted himself up and pushed back down, gasping at the glorious shockwaves it sent through his body. Finnick groaned, taking his chin and pulling him down to press a soft kiss against his lips.

"I remember the trip to the garden center," he said.

"What?!" Peeta exclaimed.

"Well, not the actual garden center, just the walk home. Remember it rained and you panicked because you didn't have a jacket and you were soaked? You asked if I could see through your clothes and I said no?" Finnick asked.

Peeta frowned. "Vaguely," he said.

"Well, I lied, you actually could see through your shirt and-" He paused to groan again, grabbing his hips and helping him move more fluently-"pants. It's an image I can never get out of my head because of how sexy you looked. You know, all wet with your shirt clinging to you like a second skin and your soaking jeans hugging your ass and legs. It's also the thing I look back on as one of my hardest moments."

"Was that a pun?" Peeta moaned.

Finnick laughed. "Nope, just happy concidence."

"So, why was it your hardest moment?" he asked.

"It was back when you were apprehensive over public displays of affections and I found it very difficult not to smack that gorgeous ass of yours because of the rain making the jeans cling so much," Finnick explained. He wound his arms around his waist and pulled him down so he was lying ontop of him. Peeta was pink with embarrassment, burying his face into his neck and whining when Finnick thrusted upwards, bumping his prostate really hard. "But now that you're comfortable with me, I can smack it whenever I want."

"I wouldn't say comfortable. I'm not used to the constant compliments. Between yourself and Cato always saying all these nice things, I sometimes wonder if you're just milking it for sex," Peeta mumbled.

Finnick laughed. "Yes darling, all we want from you is sex," he said sarcastically. He kept moving his hips, keeping a slow, steady rythmn of thrusting in and out of him, gently so that they didn't get close to orgasm too fast but still felt amazing. "You know what the first thing I thought when I saw you in the supermarket was?"

"What?"

"That boy has the cutest angry face I have ever seen."

Peeta frowned. "I didn't look angry did I?" He knew that he had had a fight with Cato the day he first met Finnick but he hadn't thought that he had expressed his anger on his face.

"I could see the anger smouldering underneath the surface of your placid expression. And your eyebrows were slightly knitted together," Finnick explained. "You looked so fantastically cute that I just had to skip the five people in front of me in the line just to stand behind you. That's when I spent the next ten minutes trying to be polite and not oggle your ass in your tracksuit bottoms."

"You know, that story started so sweet too," Peeta said.

"Do you still have those trackies?"

"Probably . . . somewhere. Cato bought me them so I probably kept them. They're about the house somewhere."

Finnick slid his hand down his back and cupped his hand over his ass, leaning up and pressing a kiss against his mouth. Peeta moaned, moving his lips gently against Finnick's. "I know I love your jeans so much but there's something incredibly appealing about trackies as well. Then again, you could be wearing a binbag and I'd think you were still so, so sexy."

Peeta flushed, smiling sheepishly. "You see? I don't know how to react when you or Cato say stuff like that. I don't understand why I can't see what you two do."

"That's because you're too hard on yourself. Even your imperfections are perfect. As contradictary as that sentence sounds."

"I don't know Finnick. I mean, when I look in the mirror all I can see is some bland, boring kid who has no personality. And yet, somehow, I still get two guys so desperate to be with me that they're willing to share me with the other guy," Peeta said. Finnick smiled, stroking his back lovingly.

"God, your mirrors must be completely different to mine," he said.

"Hmm," Peeta replied skeptically.

"What will it take for you to give yourself some form of credit?" Finnick sighed, cupping his cheek and tilting his face up to look him in the eyes. "Cato and I want to know how much more it will take for you to see through our eyes because it's sometimes painful to think of how you don't like yourself so much."

Peeta sighed, shrugging and letting his eyes flutter shut. "I don't know," he replied. "I'm fine. Just go on with life?"

"I can't go on with life if you think you're boring and bland with no personality," Finnick replied. "I know Cato couldn't either."

"I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry for anything." Finnick pushed up harder into him. Peeta groaned and hugged his torso, lifting his hips up and pushing back down. "God baby, you're so good at being on top." Peeta licked his lips, resting his head on Finnick's chest and smiling.

"Took horse riding lessons," he moaned through gritted teeth. "When I was a kid."

"I see," Finnick moaned back, tightening his grip on his hips. He buried his hands into his hair and kissed him hard. Peeta closed his eyes and opened his mouth, letting Finnick's tongue twist with his own. His boyfriend kissed like a pro, always able to leave him breathless and wanting more.

"Mmf, harder Finn, please," he begged between kisses.

Finnick grinned. "As you wish," he said. He turned them back around so Peeta was on his back again, lifting his leg and putting it over his shoulder. The new angle caused Peeta to throw his head back and scream in esctasy, unable to control himself anymore while Finnick pounded into him harder like he asked.

"Argh, Finn, I c-can't ta-take-oooohhhhh gggodddd."

Finnick put his hand at the back of his neck and pulled his head up a bit to kiss him soundly. Peeta moaned against his lips, no longer able to hold on. When he came with a high pitched whine, Finnick eased up a bit, pressing a kiss against his knee and bringing himself to his own finish.

Peeta was spent, all to ready just to fall back asleep. He smiled weakly at Finnick, chuckling when he kissed his way up his leg and torso until he reached his lips. He parted his legs to let him settle between them. "That was amazing," he murmured.

"You're amazing," Finnick corrected.

Peeta rolled his eyes and lay his head back down on the cushion, letting himself fall asleep to the feeling of kisses being pressed against his neck and chest.

~xXx~

Present:

"See?" Finnick said truimphantly. "I did look after him."

Cato sighed, looking at Peeta for confirmation. He nodded, his head now resting on Finnick's lap after the ice had melted in Cato's hand. "Okay, well, I'm glad," he said reluctantly. "I'm glad you looked after him." He looked at Peeta and ran his hand through his hair. "But baby, you're not bland or boring."

"Hmm," Peeta muttered, still unconvinced. Finnick sighed irritabley, running his hand through his hair as well. "Guys, what's DP?"

"Oh yeah, about that," Cato said. "What the hell Finnick? We agreed not to say anything about that until I got back."

"Well, you're back now," Finnick pointed out. "We really should discuss it. It's not the sort of thing you do . . . spontaneously."

"Agreed," Cato replied.

"Guys!" Peeta exclaimed. "What is it?"

Both of them looked at him, slightly unsure. "Okay," Cato said, "here's the thing . . ."

A/N: I got a request for DP from a reader so that's what I'm doing in the next chapter! I'm starting to take requests now so feel free to suggest stuff that you want to see! (:

For those of you waiting for a chapter of Chafed, I'm going through some writer's block but I'll do my best to get the next chapter done.

And as for Omega, I'm amazed by it's popularity after only two chapters! I'm hoping to get another chapter for it done too! :D

Please R&R! ^_^